Sometime In The Morning
by almost a jill sandwich
Summary: THE MONKEES- Something is wrong with Mike. And Davy, Peter and Micky are determined to find out what it is even if it means being beaten with maracas and poisonous sandwiches...don't worry tis not a song fic, though it my appear as such in the beginning.


Disclaimer: Don't own the Monkees...please don't sue :) Thanks!

Summary: There's something wrong with Mike and Davy, Peter and Micky are determined to find out what it is even if it means being beaten with maracas and a poisonous sandwich...I'm working on the next few chapters so hopefully I'll have more up in the next few days or so. Oh and don't worry, tis not a song fic...though it may appear so in the beginning.

Warning: Mild violence towards Davy.

"Sometime In The Morning"

Chapter one:

"Shhhheee..."

"She told me that she loved me and like a fool I believed her from the start."

"Shhheee..."

Peter looked to see the typical bored look across Mike's face. The simple movement of the head and a bit of bouncing to keep Micky in beat...Mike should have played drums.

"She said she'd never hurt me, but then she turned around and broke my heart."

Peter looked back at Davy trying just as hard as ever and then some. They had been rehearsing all afternoon by Mike's orders. If they were going to be ready for that gig on Saturday then they'd have to polish up every song they knew. Word was out that the new club in town was going to draw in some famous names. And that meant the Monkees could finally hit it big.

"Ahhhhhhh..."

"Why am I standing here, missing her and wishing she were near?"

"HEY!"

"She only did me wrong"

"HEY!"

Peter glanced up to see Mike's mouth was barely moving, even less so than normal. He had stopped what little bobbing he was doing and remained stationary.

"I'm better off alone!"

Peter realized his own movement was suffering. His hip swing was coming out of beat. Quickly he regained focus and managed to continue without anyone noticing.

"Shhheeeee..."

Now something was wrong. Peter didn't hear Mike at all.

"She devoured all my sweet love. Took everything I had and feed me dirt."

Peter's head turned towards Mike finding a motionless guitarist gazing off into space his mouth slightly parted.

"Shhhheeee..." Davy sang alone in between Micky's bits unaware no one else was trying to harmonize.

"She laughed when I was crying. It was such a joke to see how it hurt."

Micky and Davy ignored the two other band mates that had ceased to play, until Mike made his way to the couch and sat himself down still staring out into nothingness his guitar now in his lap.

Glancing at Peter and then to Mike, Davy darted towards him his tambourine shaking in his hand. He jumped over the ottoman his instrument making a big clang as he landed with his hands on his hips and his chin raised slightly. Staring down at Mike he waited for the other man to notice him, but Mike was in an impenetrable daze.

Micky stood up slowly. Both he and Peter wondered if their efforts were needed or if Mike was merely just sitting down for a rest. Whatever the case things felt too quiet.

"Needing a bit of rest then, Mike?"

Mike didn't move.

"You all right?" Davy tried again.

Micky ran over leaving Peter behind, "Hey, Mike. Mike? Miiiiike?" Micky poked an unresponsive Mike, "Hey, man, are ya there?"

"What's wrong with him?" asked Davy.

"Gee, I don't know." shrugged Micky as he waved a hand in front of Mike's face. Davy turned to see if he could find the mysterious entity that held his band mate's gaze, but he was unable to see anything of interest.

"Earth to Mike!" Micky pinched his nose with his fingers, "Ground control to major Nesmith! Are you there? Over!"

"Quit fooling around," Davy set down his tambourine, " some thing's really wrong with him!"

"Sometimes I forget to breath," Peter said, "Do you think Mike might have?"

"Mirror check!" Micky held out his hand to Davy.

"What? You think I carry around some little mirror all the time like some frilly dress wearing girly girl?"

"Well..."

"Besides, his chest's still moving, look." Davy pointed to Mike.

"It was worth a try." Peter shrugged.

"Hmmm...very interesting...very interesting indeed." Micky contemplated his next move as Peter came to join them.

"You don't think he's dead do you?" Peter asked horrified.

"No, Peter, he isn't dead!" Davy assured.

"Well, what's wrong with him?"

"Come on, Mike." Micky poked Mike in the dimple and then again, but this time a little too high which caused Mike to close his eyes for a split second.

"He blinked," Micky was astounded, "He blinked! Oh, Hallelujah! Oh happy day! He blinked!"

"Well of course his gonna blink you poked him in the eye!" Davy was getting annoyed with the other two conscious men in the room.

"Gentlemen," announced Micky dramatically, "I think we may need to operate!"

"Operate? You must be joking!" Davy cried.

"No, no, I'm afraid, not, old friend. I'm afraid--."

A heavy sigh cut Micky off and the three of them looked down at Mike now leaned back on the couch.

All three of them bent down staring at him in awe. Mike caught their eyes and slowly he managed to part his lips. His voice cracked as he spoke, "Hey, listen, I think I just need to sit here a minute."

Everyone nodded still staring at him wide eyed.

"Alone."

"Oh." They whispered, "Right." Micky lead Peter and Davy back to the bedroom where they closed the door and huddled around each other.

"I don't think he's just resting." Davy said.

"Me either." agreed Peter.

"Well, what could be wrong, man? I mean every thing's groovy. We're actually playing a gig this weekend, the rent's gonna be on time, we haven't gotten into too much ridiculous shenanigans lately, man we're livin' the life!"

"There's still something a miss, I know it." Davy turned away from Peter and Micky to think.

"Yeah, Mike seems pretty down," Peter sat on his bed and grabbed a stuffed animal, "we should find a way a cheer him up."

"Well, we can't do that until we know what it is that's got him down." Davy couldn't recall anything that could have put Mike in such a state, "I say we go back in there and talk to him."

"Right, we'll go back in there and find out what's goin' on. We'll just go on out there and...whose gonna talk to Mike?" Micky stopped at the door.

"Not me, last time something like this happened and I tried to talk to him he nearly pommeled me with me own maracas!"

Micky turned to Peter, "Pete?"

Peter shook his head still clutching his stuffed animal.

"Well, then I guess it's all up to me now!" proclaimed Micky and with a courageous stride he made his way down stairs. Both Davy and Peter followed behind him at a good distance carefully staying out of sight.

Micky searched the living room discovering Mike was no longer on the couch, but in the kitchen. Micky entered his back arched ready to discuss matters with his roommate. As he approached Mike turned around a knife in his hand. Though not intentionally, it was pointed towards Micky. Micky shirked and backed away nearly falling backwards.

"Put the knife down, Mike!"

"Wh--."

"Put it down, Mike, put it down, I mean you no harm!"

"Micky," Mike stepped forward issuing another shrill cry from Micky.

"No, don't come any closer, I just want to help you, Mike."

"Micky, what the...this is just a butter knife, man. See?" Mike poked his side with it.

Micky reached for the knife and plucked it from Mike's grasp setting it down on the counter. He proceeded to pat Mike on the arm, "See, I'm just trying to help."

"What is wrong with you?"

Micky straightened up now that Mike was unarmed, "We need to talk."

"Man, I really, don't feel like talking right now," Mike turned to grab something else from the counter and when he faced back around Micky fell weak in the knees again.

"It's a sandwich, Micky."

Micky brushed it off with nervous laughter, "Ha, yeah, I know...a poisonous sandwich?!"

"Why would I be eating a..."

"Don't try to confuse me!"

"Man, I just came in here to make a plain ol' ham and cheese sandwich and you just start screamin' and

makin' not a lick a sense."

Micky realized he wasn't getting anywhere and just as he was about to speak again Davy barged into the room, "What's going on, Mike?"

"Micky's the one actin' like a lunatic."

"What did you do?" asked Davy.

"Nothing, I was straightforward and inquisitive."

"Yeah, right," mumbled Mike taking a bit out his sandwich.

"Tell us what's wrong, Mike." Micky pleaded.

Mike was still eating his sandwich. He seemed to take on the same demeanor as before.

"Come one, Mike, we're roomies! Band mates! Friends! We are friends right?"

Mike glared at Davy still chewing his ham and cheese. He turned around and headed for the fridge without a word.

"What is it? You're lovestruck? Tired? Bored? Your always bored, Mike!"

"I bet it's that guy at the beach yesterday. Remember he was kind of rude to him, remember that Davy?" Micky followed Mike to the table and sat next to him

"Oh yeah, called ya a long haired wool hat wearing redneck, didn't he, Mike!" Davy joined them, "but you showed him, Mike!"

"Yeah, nobody messes with Texas, right, Mike?"

Mike opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. It wasn't worth it and even if he did tell them what was wrong they'd feel the need to cheer him up with some silly impersonations or worse...a party.

"Come, on, Mike, get it off your chest."

Peter peeked in and saw that the atmosphere had become tame once again. He entered carrying with him the same stuffed animal.

"Talking about your problems always helps." Micky assured him.

"I told ya, I really don't feel like talkin'."

"Was it my singing today?" Davy kept at it. If anything he was just curious as to what it was that was stifling Mike's happiness, "I mean sure I was off a little, but it wasn't that bad. Don't get me wrong it wasn't my best, I'm not saying that, but..."

"Oh, Mike, your grandma didn't die did she?" Peter had seated himself next to Davy who was still rambling, "You know I was really upset when my grandma died too, but you know what I did, I got all my stuffed animals and..."

"Peter, my grandmother's been dead for nearly five years now."

"People have been known to repress things."

Davy jumped in his seat and hit the table top with his palm, "It's a girl, isn't?"

Mike looked up at Davy staring at him for a few seconds and then gazing back at his half eaten sandwich. He had given himself away too easily.

"I knew it! I knew it was a girl! See fellas, I knew! Knew it all a long!" Davy celebrated with glee.

Mike stood up from the table slowly. It was impossible to sulk alone in this house not to mention eat a ham sandwich in peace. He'd just have to make it through the rest of rehearsal. There'd be more time before he had to make everyone breakfast tomorrow. He could wake up early maybe go down to beach and watch the sunrise. He was bound to to get some quiet time to think in the morning.

"Well, that's great Mike, who is she?"

"There's no she, Micky...not anymore."

"She dumped ya, huh?"

"Yeah, Pete, I guess ya could say that."

Davy perked up again, "wait, since when did you ever have a girl?"

"A long time ago." Mike was walking out of the kitchen as he waved Davy's question off.

"But, wait...what was she like? Was she pretty?" Davy caught up with him in the living room.

"Yeah, I guess so...but listen, Davy, I don't really wanna talk about it, okay."

"But..."

"I knew a girl back home, she left me for somebody else...that's all ya need to know, Davy." Mike picked up his guitar.

"But, Mike!"

"Davy." Mike turned his guitar halfway raised.

"Right, Mike, sorry."

"Now, get the guys, we only have three more days until Saturday."

With nothing more than a nod Davy retreated back into the kitchen where Peter rested his head against his stuffed animal and Micky sat finishing Mike's sandwich.

"Come on, fellas."


End file.
